


So Many Miles Between Us Now (But You Are Always Here With Me)

by CorvusCorvidae



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/F, friend with benefits used loosely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-10 05:18:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4378736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorvusCorvidae/pseuds/CorvusCorvidae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's a stranger, at first. She's a friend with benefits, at best. She's a memory, at last.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Many Miles Between Us Now (But You Are Always Here With Me)

*0*0*

The first thing you noticed was her gaze, fixed upon you, across the room, unwavering upon the return, and the smirk that toyed at her lips. It was an invitation, an opening if you wanted one, and you did. But instead, you looked away, took another drink, running your fingers round the rim when done, and opted to wait it out.

She approached you, taking the empty seat next on your left, and now it was her turn to wait.

You glanced over, just as she did, and the desire was palpable.

You’d never met her before, you’d never seen her before, but you wanted her, pressed against a wall, flat on her back, bent over, anywhere you could get her; and from the look in her eyes, she wanted the exact same thing.

It was not surprising, then, to find yourself knuckle deep in the bathroom, rutting against her, lips on her neck, teeth scraping the skin, with her fingers tugging your hair, pulling at your hips, scraping your back, while you pushed her higher and higher. She kissed you with fire, burning your lips, scorching your skin, and you wanted more. You wanted to combust.

Her panting grew in intensity, she tightened around your fingers, and her hips moved to their own accord, and you followed after from desire alone.

“Thanks…” she said, after straightening her skirt down, and making herself look presentable.

“Lexa,” you finished, wondering who this stunning stranger knew at the party.

“Lexa. Thanks, Lexa,” she repeated, a hue on her cheeks, and you grinned.

“You’re welcome…” you trailed, hoping she’d get the hint.

“Clarke.”

“Clarke. You’re very welcome, Clarke,” you mimicked, and she grinned back, glancing down, almost embarrassed, but smiling still, and the desire was back.

“Want to get out of here, Lexa?” Her fingers were toying with your belt, and you closed your eyes on instinct, taking a deep breath at the feel of her moving down, running her fingers over the zipper of your pants, and fuck.

“Yes, please,” you answered, opening your eyes again, pupils blown, and she smiled back in a way that had you on your knees later that night, head between her thighs, licking and kissing and devouring, and God, you wanted that smile again.

You didn’t mean to sleep over that night, but exhaustion hit around four in the morning, and she’d said ‘fuck it’ and gave you half the bed. So you stayed. You slept. You woke up with her looking as good as she did the night before in nothing but a long t-shirt, and you wondered where this woman had been hiding all your life.

*0*0*

Clarke Griffin was not a Polis resident, and would be leaving soon. You knew that when you went back to her hotel room and slept in her bed. You knew that when you saw her bags almost fully packed on the way out the next day. You knew that when she kissed you goodbye on the sidewalk.

“Maybe one day, we’ll meet again,” she said, holding you in a hug.

“Maybe,” you replied, giving her a nod, a quirk of the lips, a hopeful smile, and that was enough to have the two of you stepping back.

You walked away never anticipating to see her again.

*0*0*

Work life became harder. Anya promoted you, finally, and put you in charge of the growth and expansion projects. That meant a lot of flying around the country, visiting different sites, talking to contractors and trying to keep everything in budget. It also meant a lot of time stuck in airport lounges.

They were lonely, in your opinion. Everyone coming and going, the briefest of human contact before silence, and you hated waiting around in them.

But your flight had been delayed, you had at least another three hours before it was due to leave, and there was no option but to get drunk at the bar, and put it all on company expenses. Anya could yell at you later.

Then, a familiar face amongst the rest, and your eyes caught hers, from across the room.

She almost looked younger, and you wondered if she recognised you.

Not wanting to overdo it if she didn’t, you turned away, waiting to see. And like last time. she came to you.

“Lexa,” she grinned, warm and welcoming, sitting down.

“Clarke,” you replied, tipping your glass to her, and letting her know you remembered.

You couldn’t forget.

“Never thought I’d see you again,” she laughed, and you did too, nodding once more. “But I’m glad I did. When’s your flight out?” You pointed to the screen across from the bar, indicating it was the one that stood out, and she grinned.

“Oh, so we have time then.” You held back the want, the hope, and raised your eyebrow in question.

“Time for…?” You let it hang, and her smirk told you what you wanted to know.

One drink later, she had her hands in your pants, panting into your neck, sucking beneath the collar of your shirt, and curling her fingers just when you needed her to. It was sensory overload, the smell of her hair so sweet and familiar, the sensation of her touch, her lips on your neck, her teeth nipping at your bottom lip, her fingers thrusting into you, her thumb rubbing circles at your clit, and the taste of her on your tongue.

Fighting back a moan, you came, hard, knees close to buckling, and latching onto her body for support. It was exactly what you needed. She was exactly what you needed.

She was exactly what you had been missing.

Clarke left  the bathroom stall before you, trying not to make it obvious the two of you had just fucked. You straightened out your clothing, brushed your hands through your hair to make it look less dishevelled, and washed your hands.

When you got back to your things at the bar, seat empty, you found Clarke gone, and a napkin under your drink;

_Maybe one day we’ll meet again - C x_

Maybe.

*0*0*

You don’t know how she found you, but she did.

To this day, you believe one of your friends must have told you. You two did know someone in common, at least, because you’d met at Anya’s party so many months ago. But she wasn’t saying anything, so you left it alone, even if you did wonder how Clarke came to find you.

She knocked on your apartment door a later Thursday evening, when you weren’t expecting anyone, and frowning because you hadn’t buzzed anyone in.

One look through the peephole told you enough, and despite your surprise, you couldn’t turn her away; so you opened the door.

Clarke walked into your apartment like she belonged there, and you couldn’t think of any reason why that wasn’t the case.

She slept in your bed, her naked back glowing from the light on your bedside table, and you fought the urge to kiss up her spine. You’d spent the last few hours reacquainting yourselves with the other, physically, and there was time to continue that, but first you had questions.

She withheld a lot of the answers.

“I’m staying in town for a bit. Work,” she shrugged, like that was a full answer, but you accepted it like it was.

That was your first mistake.

*0*0*

Staying in town for a bit actually meant months. Clarke let you know she was going to stay at a hotel for the duration of her stay, but you thought that would be foolish, especially when you were under the impression she was staying days, not weeks, not months.

She kissed you, cupping your cheeks in her hands, and looked at you like you longed to looked at.

It was enough for you.

And when the weeks went on, and you realised you were actually living with her now, it didn’t phase you.

Small things, a toothbrush here, her own mug there, paintbrushes in the sink, clothes on the couch, told you that she was becoming permanent.

What that meant, at the time, was of no concern.

You actually liked the idea of her being permanent. You liked having her in your bed in the morning, calling her at lunch time to see how each other’s day was going, meeting up for dinner, curling up on the couch to binge watch TV, and you liked existing with Clarke.

Everything about her told you she was in this wholeheartedly, too.

The two of you had started merging your lives, your friends becoming friends with her friends, celebrating birthdays, and the holidays, and the sad reminders of those lost, and you were in love with Clarke Griffin, like you’d never loved before.

Her kisses were criminal; stealing your breath, highjacking your heart, robbing your train of thought, and ransacking your emotions. She was in complete control, leading you deeper and deeper, until you had passed the point of no return.

And you only realised this, when it was too late.

*0*0*

“I’m heading back to Jaha,” she said, blasé, like it was nothing, like she hadn’t shattered your world with those five simple words.

“When?” you asked, playing it cool, keeping it cold, icing over.

“My flight is tomorrow night.”

You were both on the couch, cuddled into each other’s side, but right at that moment, it felt like there were a thousand miles between the two of you.

She had blindsided you.

Were you a blip in her life, a stepping stone until the next stop? Did you mean anything to her? Because my god, she meant almost everything to you. Yes, you hadn’t told her you loved her, but you were certain she knew. Everyone knew from looking at the two of you how serious this was. You loved her, and she loved you.

Granted, she had never said the words. She hadn’t. But her actions, they spoke volumes.

Now, her actions said otherwise.

“Oh,” you murmured, swallowing the tears, swallowing the pain, swallowing life.

And that was all you could say on that.

*0*0*

Less that twenty four hours later, you stood on the sidewalk, saying goodbye all over again, and this felt like deja vu.

Another hug, a kiss you longed to continue, and then separation.

The taxi was waiting, she didn’t want you driving her, no room for grand romantic gestures. Good; because you didn’t have one.

“Lexa?” she asked, holding your gaze for a moment longer.

You wondered if she was going to say something, anything of substance. All she had to do was open her mouth and say ‘’I’ll call you when I land’ or ‘let’s make this work, despite the distance. You knew she wasn’t going to say any of that, though.

“Yes, Clarke?”

It felt formal.

It was formal.

“Maybe one day, we’ll meet again.” It almost sounded like a question, but you knew it wasn’t.

“Maybe,” you replied, giving her a nod, a quirk of the lips, a hopeful smile.

You knew better.

This was it.

And she was walking away, knowing that, too.

That was the last time you saw her, watching her slip into the backseat of a taxi, her gaze as bewitching as it had been when you first met her.

You had been caught up in the riptide that was Clarke Griffin, but the current had calmed, and now you could assess the damage. Water in your lungs, streaming down your face, gasping for breath, but alive.

You had lived to tell the tale, and had nothing to show for it.

*0*0*

 

 


End file.
